As a teenager I was cursed with erratic mood changes. There were dark, introspective moods and exhausting, creative highs that taxed my parents and teachers patience. My parents tried everything, believing it to just be teenage acting out. Discipline, family therapy, you name it they tried it. All to no avail.
The roller coaster of my teenage years rolled right into my twenties. On my own then, with no parents to reign me in, my world fell apart. In ten short years I was; married, divorced, had two children, became estranged to my children, had a beautiful home, lived in my car, had six jobs and totally ruined my credit. I self medicated with street drugs and alcohol and barely kept myself alive.
During a very low spot during my thirties, while my second husband was traveling, I hit my first suicidal low with witnesses. I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disease during that episode and started on the first medication I had ever had for my moods. Partially relieved and partially scared, I religiously took my medications for a few years. My moods were not me being childish but due to a real physical short coming in my chemical makeup. That was a relief. But the fact that this was going to be with me for life, as with most, did not sit well.
On and off my medications through out my thirties and forties, some how I managed to stay acceptably functional. I read everything I could find on Bipolar Disease and keys to managing it. I put in place routines, educated (yea right, I let them know I was moody) a friend or two and tried to manage my condition without medication when ever I could. Without fail, after a period of time, a serious low would hit and I’d have to frantically find a doctor for a prescription. Then, once leveling out, I’d find that I had not managed my condition as well as I thought. There would be binders of depressed poetry and bills for things I did not remember buying. Arg!
Sounds familiar doesn’t it. Every book or article I have ever read, every person I have ever spoken to has a similar story. The illusion that everything is okay and the medication is no longer needed is a very strong foe.
So here I am 300 words into my story and all I wanted to say is acceptance. Medications will be a part of my life, for the rest of my life. I have a disease that can not be cured and does not magically go away. It can though, be successfully managed through medication. And I need to put safety nets in place so that when I think I no longer need medications, I can be reminded of the truth.
How do I out think myself? Answer: Go some place I would not go.
In simple English. I have always been very private about my condition and the daily battles that I wage with myself. So I have crossed that line. I have openly shared with loved ones, and through this blog, that I have Bipolar Disease. I am Manic-Depressive. I have to take medications for the rest of my life. I leave my Rx bottles out where they can be seen. I’ve told my loved ones about indicators that my moods are out of wack. It was emotionally painful and embarrassing to share this information openly. But the pain of sharing pales next to the pain of the unmedicated me and the havoc I reek on my life and those I love.
This is another step that I’m taking to ensure I stay health, happy and productive
Here’s to staying between the lines.
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- Bipolar – something I am? Or something I have? (purplepersuasion.wordpress.com)